Brighton
by MissAlexVause
Summary: Patsy and Delia have a weekend to themselves.


**A/N: Not written for these two before, so critiques gladly welcome. Kept daydreaming about this on the bus earlier, so here goes!**

* * *

"Trixie, are you absolutely sure about this?"

"Of course! It's not as if I'll be using them anymore, so you might as well. I don't think you've taken a day off since you started."

Patsy sighs. She feels a small sense of guilt at accepting Trixie's gift, as she knows the blonde had been planning the weekend with Tom for months, and now she'd have to cover Patsy's workload too. But two whole days for herself and Delia, away from Poplar and away from the constant fear of being found out if they stood just an inch too close...frankly, it sounds like heaven.

"Both Barbara and I will be too busy, we can't leave all the work to the Sisters, but I'm sure you've got other friends. Nurse Busby, maybe? You seem to get along very well."

Perhaps she's imagining the mischievous glint in Trixie's eye as she finished her sentence, out of fear that somebody had caught on to them at last. But when she looks again she sees no malice, no suspicion, just innocence in the eyes of her friend, allowing her shoulders to relax a little as she quietly releases a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"That'd be nice. I'll see if she's able to get away."

"That settles it then. I'll speak with Sister Julienne to check that she doesn't mind me giving my days off to you. I'm sure she won't, but better to check just in case."

Trixie smiles at her as she leaves the room, a proper, genuine smile, something Patsy hasn't seen in quite a few days now. The past couple of weeks have been hard on her, no matter how she tries to hide it, and Patsy makes a mental note to speak to Barbara about keeping an eye on her and her alcohol intake. They've both noticed a definite increase since the engagement ended, and although Trixie shrugs their questions off, it's clear that things are in danger of going quite sharply downhill.

She resolves to speak with Delia at the next possible opportunity, which turns out to be later the same day. Barbara offers to check in with her last patient of the day, as she has a delivery to attend to a few streets away, and for once Patsy accepts, realising it may be her only chance for a few days. Shortly after dinner, she excuses herself, grabbing her bicycle and setting off towards the nurses home, hoping they aren't still eating. She knows, of course, where Delia's room is, how to get in without being seen and how to open the doors without them creaking - part of the job, so to speak. Despite a close shave with one of Delia's co-workers (resulting in Patsy standing in a broom cupboard for a good six minutes, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why she's in there in case somebody finds her), she finds her sweetheart fairly easily, shoving a chair against the door to avoid anyone walking in on them.

"A whole weekend? In Brighton? Just the two of us?"

Patsy bites her lip and nods, not sure whether Delia's questions are a good sign or a bad one. She's not stupid, she knows that they're still going to have to be incredibly careful, but to have some time to just _be_ is something neither woman is particularly used to. Especially when it concerns both of them together.

"I know it'll still be risky, and we'll have to follow the same rules we've laid out for ourselves here, but I thought I'd run it past you, just to see. We'd be sharing a hotel room, but I'm sure nobody will think anything of it. It's down to whether you can get time off or not."

Delia nods, taking a moment just to pause and think. "I should be able to get the weekend off, if I do some overtime Friday. I haven't asked for a day off in a while, so I don't think it'd be a problem."

It's at that point that Patsy feels the nerves drain away, smiling brightly and leaning forwards to pull Delia close to her. It's been too long since they've been able to relax with each other without constantly looking over shoulders and keeping their respectable distances, too long since they've sat and talked about anything and everything, too long since they've been so physically close to each other. Patsy hates how unfair the whole system is, how it's perfectly acceptable for a man and a woman to start openly kissing on the street, yet she can't even hold the hand of her love in public without being under a serious threat. The 'pretty police' make her sick to her stomach, afraid to even look at Delia in case her face betrays her feelings, thus making these moments just that bit more special. She can't tell how long they sit there, arms around each other, glancing at the door every five minutes to check nobody's sneaked in, only that the clock strikes eight far too soon for either of their likings. It signifies yet another week of stolen glances, forbidden touches and the constant anxiety of being together where somebody might spot them. She takes a minute to kiss Delia, not letting things get too heated, but enough to tide them through until the weekend, the wonderful weekend, with no stress and nobody to turn them out for loving who they want to. Four days, she reminds herself, as she closes Delia's door behind her. That's all, she thinks, as she begins the cycle home. Ninety-six hours, she tells herself, as her eyelids close and she slowly falls asleep, feeling as though she's counting down the hours even in her slumber.

* * *

It's finally Saturday, after a long week of babies, nursing, and, of course, waiting. Patsy's waiting around the corner from the nurses home, her suitcase in one hand and a box of shortbread in the other, which Sister Monica Joan had proudly handed her with a small speech about where Sister Evangelina likes to hide her treats. She's only been waiting three minutes before Delia appears, suitcase in hand, practically skipping over. They both do a quick check of the area before Patsy leans in to kiss her cheek, lingering just a fraction longer than is strictly necessary, and then they're off, arms linked, walking the ten minutes to the station. There's still twenty minutes before their train arrives, so they stop for a coffee in a small café nearby, chatting excitedly about how to spend their time off. There's talk about the pier, the shopping in the Lanes, the clock tower standing proudly outside of Churchill Square, the Royal Pavilion, every tourist spot they can think of. Patsy learns that Delia's been before, when she was still a child, and listens intently to the stories she tells.

Their journey is a pleasant one, with a train compartment to themselves, resulting in clasped hands hidden behind Delia's suitcase. The shortbread doesn't last long, disappearing with the London scenery, and their alcove is filled with recounts of Sister Monica Joan, stories of the hospital, the gossip of Poplar, and relaxed, joyful laughter. As much as she loves her friends and her job, Patsy can't remember the last time she felt so happy.

It doesn't take them long to find their hotel room, lock the door, exchange a few kisses and dump their belongings on the beds before they're off again, bathing suits underneath dresses and enough money between them for an ice cream each. Patsy's surprised to find that, instead of the stretches of sand she'd seen in postcards from around the world, the beach is entirely made up of rocks and pebbles. Delia simply laughs at her shock, grabbing her arm to pull her towards the water, resulting in a small competition as to who can get in to the ocean the fastest, leading Patsy to severely regret her decision of a button-up dress (although she can't fault the view of Delia in nothing but a swimsuit). She's not sure of the last time she went swimming, it was never her favourite pastime, yet somehow she feels even happier than she did on the train, splashing about in the shallower areas and almost splitting her sides laughing when Delia slips down a sharp slope in the water after hearing her talk about all the times she's been swimming before.

"Do you fancy going on the Pier for a bit?" Delia calls, wading back through the water to where Patsy stands and watches. When she reaches her, she takes hold of her hands under the water, causing Patsy to reflexively check nobody can see.

"That'd be lovely."

The two of them spend most of the remainder of the day sitting in the sun, enjoying each others' company, after an afternoon of games and ice cream on the pier, including an incident of Delia having the flake from her ice cream stolen by a passing seagull, causing Patsy to almost choke on her own flake laughing. They opt for some fish and chips for dinner ("if we're going to be tourists, we're going to do it properly!"), as it reminds Patsy of the night in the chapel, the day she delivered her first stillborn outside of training. Delia seems to pick up on this, leaning over on the bench they've settled on to squeeze her hand gently, bringing up a distraction by asking about their plans for tomorrow.

"I was thinking we could maybe have a look around the Lanes - I promised Eleanor I'd bring her something back."

Patsy nods. "I need to get something for Barbara and Trixie too, since they're covering my shifts this weekend. We could spend the afternoon there?"

"Deal", replies Delia, smiling up at her. "Shall we head back? It'll be nice to spend the evening together."

Patsy's initial thought is that they've spent the whole day together, but she realises it's more than that. It's the idea of spending the evening touching and cuddling away from the worry of discovery, the idea of being able to sleep in the same bed. Although they didn't dare push the two singles together in case a maid began questioning, there was more than enough room in a single for both of them. So she nods, discarding the newspaper in which she's eaten her dinner from, and links her arm through Delia's again. They spend the evening exactly how they wanted too, arms around each other and stealing the occasional kiss, settling down in a similar fashion. Patsy isn't used to the contact, and she finds she quite likes having Delia curled up against her, hearing her soft breathing and sharing her warmth as the clock on the mantlepiece ticks and tocks until her eyes drift shut.

* * *

Waking up with Delia's arms around her is her new favourite feeling, Patsy decides.

Being the early riser that she's become, thanks to months of broken sleep and night-time deliveries, she has a good hour to relish the feeling, save it to her memory for all the times it won't be there. Delia wakes up at around eight, and Patsy kisses her, on impulse, another feeling to store away for later. They treat themselves to breakfast in bed, Patsy having to quickly mess her own bed up slightly before the waiter gets there, and they spend the morning on the patio, watching people go about their lives.

They've chosen to spend the day shopping, as their train doesn't leave until around eight o'clock that evening. The Lanes are a curious place, a mass of narrow streets lined with antique shops, jewellery shops, cafés, sweet shops, anything you could possibly want. Patsy emerges from various stores with a box of chocolates for the girls back home and a new scarf as a present for Delia, remembering how badly her other one needs repairing. They have lunch in a small side street, a conversation of mindless chatter and comments on the city and its benefits.

"I wonder whether, if we saved up for long enough, we could perhaps come back here in a few months, or maybe even next year?" Delia suggests. "If we combine our wages, I think we could do it in four or five."

Patsy nods, the thought of another weekend like this one being enough to tempt her in to it. "I think we should aim for five, six if we can't manage it, maybe make if a bi-annual thing? I'm sure the Sisters won't mind me taking a small holiday every so often, Sister Julienne is always commenting on how much I need a break sometimes."

Delia smiles back at her. "Six it is then. I rather like the thought of this becoming a habit, however infrequent."

The main reflection Patsy has is how wonderful it is to finally spend some proper alone time with her love, instead of the creeping around and worry they have in Poplar. She wonders whether they'll ever be able to do this again, whether they'll ever live in a society where men loving men and women loving women was accepted, normal even, or whether they'll both be condemned to the anxiety they've become used to. She's beginning to worry herself again, wondering whether they'll both have enough restraint around each other after a weekend of practically no boundaries. And her worry shows, clearly, as she feels Delia's fingers wrap around her own in a comforting gesture. "We'll be okay, Pats. I promise we'll be okay," is all she says, and although the words may end up being a lie, it reassures her frantic conscience.

She almost wants to cry as they start packing their things up later in the evening, to the point where she has to stop for a second and collect herself together. It isn't until she feels a pair of arms slide warmly around her waist that she realises how tense she is as she relaxes her body, turning around to hold Delia closer to her. She presses a few kisses to the top of her girlfriends head, resting her cheek there for several minutes as she cherishes the way they mold together, taking a deep breath as Delia slowly untangles herself, reaching up to kiss her with a smile as they go back to their packing.

The train ride home is just as fulfilling as the one there, as they finish off the rest of the shortbread. Patsy throws caution to the wind in a rare moment of defiance as she slips her arm around Delia's waist, feeling the action reciprocated, and placing her hand over the one that's appeared. The man in the compartment opposite theirs is far too engrossed in his newspaper to worry too much, so she rests her head on top of her girlfriends', watching the countryside roll by in the darkness of the evening. She goes to ask Delia a question about their next trip, only to discover her sweetheart fast asleep, leaning against her. So she smiles instead, kissing the top of her head and holding her that bit closer. This, she thinks, as she looks down at the woman she loves, is what it truly is to be happy.

* * *

**Got a bit cheesy, but we'll be okay. Reviews and critiques always appreciated!**


End file.
